ackground
of sea and sky. Shelter Island has one such pine, under which also
Captain Kidd is supposed to have deposited a sample of treasure. I think
there are no more in our part of the world.

Well, you can imagine that it's wonderful to sit by the water, lapping
and whispering as it mumbles to the shore with toothless baby mouths; to
sit there and wait for the moon to come up behind those dark umbrella
pines.

None of us three felt like talking. There wasn't much to say which
interested us just then, and at the same time went well with the
exquisite romance of the place. Besides, it was lovely to listen to the
water.

We grouped together, sitting on the grass, Jack with his back against a
big chestnut tree, I leaning against his shoulder, and Patsey reclining,
with her elbow in my lap. Far away a clock musically struck the
half-hour after eleven, and as the sound died away a creamy light began
to run along the sky. We sat very still, knowing what was coming to
pass. In a minute more we saw a ruddy rim rise out of purple dusk; and
with that almost incredible quickness in which the miracle is
accomplished, the whole moon was up, red and slightly concave, for it
was past the full.

Then the thing we had come out to see, happened. We saw the molten lamp
directly behind the biggest of the seven pines out on the Point. The
tree, black as ink, looked suddenly like a gigantic suit of armour, with
an immense heart-shaped jewel--perhaps that magic carbuncle from the
hidden pool of the White Mountains--suspended in its breast.

While we looked something else happened: a small rowboat with a man in
it skimmed into sight, and slowed down at the Point of the Pines. Silent
as a water bird it glided into the tiny cove between the point and the
wide stretch of lawn, stopping dead under the moon-illumined tree.

By common consent we were as still as statues. Where we sat at a
distance from the shore, and under the big chestnut, we were invisible
to the man in the boat. We thought we should see him climb onto the
bank, where his figure would be silhouetted against the moonlight; but
he didn't appear.

"Perhaps it's a rendezvous of sweethearts," I whispered. "Presently
another boat will come with the girl."

"Perhaps," Patsey whispered back. "Yes, it must be that. There is
nothing he can do with the cave."

"Cave!" echoed Jack, interested as a boy. "Is there a cave?"

"It is only a little one," said Pat. "Not a nice cave. I